A War In Our Minds
by meetmyoddlydrawnmemories
Summary: Regina is the fifteen year old daughter of Cora Mills, the most pious, most elegant, most hypocritical woman ever to "grace" (read: curse) the face of the earth. When Cora decides to take in a young orphan, Emma, to impress, Regina struggles between her fear for her mother and her confusing feelings for Emma. Warning: mentions of child abuse and Cora using religion to decieve.


Hey guys! :) I thought I'd warn you in advance before you read it :) This is my first contribution so please be nice- it's not beta'd but it's not exactly unpolished either. I would appreciate reviews, and constructive criticism. The story is set a little after WWII. Trigger warning: there are some mentions of child abuse, though not graphic, and there may be more violence in other chapters. :) Be assured I will warn before I mention sensitive issues in a chapter, and if you have a problem with them, you can just skip the chapter- I'll be happy to provide a non-triggering rehash of the events upon request :) Without further ado... Onwards! ;)

Regina didn't really even know what it would be like, if she had been born to a different family, preferably Before the war. She didn't really know what Before was, but sometimes when she carried prints of her mother's religious materials and the muffins she had baked over to her elderly neighbor Melina Woodhouse, her mother telling her that she was a hopeless soul and that she had better try and convert someone to redeem herself, she would sit and listen to the old woman talk. The woman would tell her mother that Regina had been helping her with housework or some other chore, and that she was so helpful and lovely, that her mother would be slightly appeased for the afternoon.

Really, Mrs. Woodhouse was the nicest person that Regina knew. When she showed up trembling on her doorstep the first time in the pouring rain, when it was 40 degrees or less outside and the little girl was soaked through to the bone, she held out the bag of printed materials that her mother had sent her with, to "convert the souls of the damned," because Regina's mother always told her that she would never get to heaven in the end unless she did her part. So because of some menial mistake that her seven year old self had made, she was forced to go out and hand out materials in the midst of the storm that she was extremely afraid of. But she was more afraid of her parents.

Mrs. Woodhouse invited the little girl inside and Regina refused, her lower lip quivering, because she was afraid of the consequences. But eventually, she gave in, because she had been outside in the rain for quite a while, and her fingers were beginning to turn a strange waxy sheen and she was deathly afraid they were going to fall off. So she stepped inside, and the woman gave her a fluffy robe and dried her clothes in front of the fire, and took all the materials from the little girl with a wink, saying to "Tell your mum the neighbors were very interested today. And one in particular says she wants me to come back with more." Regina nodded, and stared at the warm cup of chamomile tea that the woman offered her. "But I'm not to drink tea, Mother says- I'll never get a good husband if I look frail-" and she interrupted her. "Your mother sounds like a positively beastly woman," she said. "No need to tell her I said that. But I think if you send your child into rain for punishment, you are already beastly, no matter what you do."

Regina gaped at her. The woman chuckled. "No need to look so surprised, dear. Mothers can be wrong after all. And tea won't make you look frail. And, as well, getting a husband is not necessarily your purpose. You never know what you will do. You might do great things, someday." Regina drank the tea, and smiled quietly to herself. She had never met anyone so kind to her. The church her mother and father went to was filled with people who pretended to be kind, but as soon as no adults were around, mistreated her. Her so called "friends" stabbed her in the back repeatedly, and hit her and beat her around whenever they wished. Her parents sold her horse because they said that she was lacking in her studies. The social circles her mother and father were a big part of were all stiff and ultra-polite. And her parents themselves were the worst of the equation. She pushed them out of her mind whenever possible.

As years went on, Mrs. Woodhouse taught her many things. "You might pray for rain, today, Regina," she said one scorching summer day. "I could never pray for something for myself," the ten year old gasped. "I must only pray for God to save my soul and help the poor children in London who are being bombed. Mother says we may take one in, sometime, to make the family look benevolent." Mrs. Woodhouse shook her head. "That's not how that works. First of all, you never do a good work for personal gain, it ends badly. Second, _why the hell not?_ "

Regina was mortified at first whenever Mrs. Woodhouse expressed her feelings through expletives, but then gradually became acclimated to them. "I don't know," she said, wringing her hands. "It just… feels wrong, somehow." Mrs. Woodhouse eyed her carefully. "Perhaps you should summon it then," she said, nonchalantly taking a sip of her lemonade (which Regina had her suspicions of it not being just lemonade but said nothing). Regina stared. "S-summon? What? How?"

And that was Regina's introduction to elemental magic. "I feel it, strong within you, dear," Mrs. Woodhouse said, passing her hand over Regina's closed fist. "You must gather the energy in your body that you have and use it. You are particularly susceptible to being hurt by people, I think, because you can sense their inner thoughts. You were born with a gift, child. Use it." And that day, for the first time, Regina learnt to summon a tiny cloud. It was only the size of her little teacup, but she played with it was such great glee, and Mrs. Woodhouse watched with the satisfaction that she had made Regina be a real child for the afternoon. The tiny cloud even rained- it filled Regina's empty glass- and it floated around, and Regina chased it in the house. When Regina tripped and broke her glass, she looked at Mrs. Woodhouse in fear. Mrs. Woodhouse shrugged and threw up her hands and said, "I'm not even mad," laughingly, and they both laughed hysterically, Regina's pet cloud forgotten.

Around five years later, Regina came bursting in at the front door. "Mrs. Woodhouse," she said breathlessly, "I've news, and I'm not sure if it's good or bad." Mrs. Woodhouse set down her knitting and patted the chair next to her. "My listening ears are open." Regina sat down and began breathlessly, "My mother- she was at the house of the Minister, and he suggested that we take in a girl from London who is coming to the group home, and my mother said she'd "pray about it-" and then came home and announced to all of us that we would be getting a new family member and that I was to share my room to make me more humble. I'm not mad," she finished off, close to tears, "But she would be better off in the orphanage than at my house! My mother is horrid," she cried, leaning forward with her head in her hands.

"Hush, child, it's alright," Mrs. Woodhouse said soothingly. "There is nothing you can do about this situation, to be sure, short of using your magic to kill your mother with a strange natural phenomenon-" Regina looked up in horror- "but, we can safely say that is out of the question," she finished. Regina exhaled, relieved. "Honestly, I don't know what to say. I wish I could help you, dear, I really do," she sighed, "but it is beyond my power. But I do want you to know that I will always be here if you need to talk, and I will always be here for you." Regina threw her arms around the woman, and they talked in solitude for a long time.

Regina met Emma for the first time at the group home. Her mother was pompously bragging to the receptionist about the fostering, and the poor woman was about to cry with frustration, and Regina was left alone to meet Emma. She sat on a bench, alone, and stared at the floor. One would have thought that a girl who had been bounced from home to home to orphanage to orphanage during the war would be ecstatic, but Emma didn't show any emotion. Her eyes, however, welled with unshed tears, and her gaunt frame showed marks of the abuse that she had endured. Regina almost cried looking at her. Her mother had not been the best to her, and was certainly not capable of administering appropriate punishment, but this girl was basically a broken, living skeleton. Her watery green eyes focused downwards, the slight spattering of freckles on her face failed to cheer her face at all. Her ragged blonde hair was tied back with a metal wire, and she was wearing boys' clothes that looked severely used. Only her shoes were feminine, and they were worn to a scrap.

Regina cautiously edged onto the bench. The girl didn't respond. Regina cautiously placed her hand on her knee. "Hey," she said softly. Emma didn't say anything, but squeezed her hand tight. Regina squeezed it back, and the two sat there in silence. "I- I should probably warn you, my mom is over there, and we're the ones supposed to pick you up." Emma's eyes filled with fear, following the bossy, bragging woman who was definitely overdressed as she loudly bragged about a charity ball. Regina squeezed her hand again, and said, "It's rather awkward of me to tell you this as we're picking you up, but she's very difficult. You'll not want to annoy her," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears, "but I don't think I'm so bad. At least I hope not," she continued. Emma nodded. "And I have a nice room- my mother said we're to share- but it's very large, and the bed is really comfy, and yours is nice too. We picked you a pretty white comforter and lots of pillows. I know that's really stupid. I'm sorry." Her face flushed nervously. _Why am I so nervous?_ she thought. It reminded her of when she'd had a crush on a boy in her class, William. _William, get out of my head,_ she mentally reminded herself. _And this should be my new best friend. Hopefully. If she isn't a jerkwad. Wait. Proper language. Ugh- I've been mentally rambling and she probably thinks I'm weird now-_

Emma smiled, which shocked Regina. "It sounds nice," she said. "Sorry if I seem standoffish- I've just been passed off from one hell to another. I'm just… kind of scared," she admitted. "I was living in a house with four kids, and the parents were jerks. They saw me as their revenue from the state, and they didn't treat me like they were supposed to." "I'm so sorry. That's terrible! Why would they think that's okay?" Emma shrugged. "I've been through a lot of homes. They all do that. Occasionally, you get the odd nice one, but mostly not." She twisted her hands together as she spoke. Regina opened her mouth to speak, but just then her mother sauntered over and introduced herself in the most pompous and frightening way possible to Emma.

The whole way home, Regina and Emma sat together in the seat farthest in the back, while Cora sat in the seat in front of them. She lectured Emma sternly, and occasionally broke off to yell at the driver. "Now, Emma. I expect that you will help with the laundry." "Yes ma'am." "You will keep your room perfectly clean, you will read and learn ladylike arts- Gina will teach you, won't you Gina, darling?" she turned around to face Regina, who cringed at being called Gina and restrained herself from vomiting, and answered, "Yes, Mother." "You will also- FRANCES. What in tHE HELL ARE YOU DOING. Do _not_ , for God's sake, turn up that side str- yes, Frances, the store please, we must buy clothes fo- not the store _I_ buy my clothes at, gracious. The other one- not _that-_ anyway, Emma. You will be polite, and respectful. You may refer to me as either Miss Cora or Mother, whichever suits you, and you will absolutely obey me with no questions. You will attend church, and will be the perfect picture of civilization…"

Regina rolled her eyes and hand-puppeted her mother's actions. Emma stifled a giggle, but managed to repress it and acknowledge Cora every so often with a proper, "Yes, Miss Cora. I understand. Certainly," as poor Frances was yelled at every turn of the street until he was quite shaking from the nerves. "You, girls, will stay inside the car," bellowed Cora as they stopped at the store. "Gina does not need to come in, and Emma is not fit to be seen in that-" she stopped and surveyed her with a disgusted glare, "clothes. If you could call it that." She flounced off into the store to order the clothing, and was back rather quickly. "They will deliver everything this afternoon," she announced. "Home, Frances. And do drive more smoothly, will you, you _do_ disturb my nerves so _dreadfully._ "

"Girls, go to your room," Cora announced to them as soon as they stumbled over the threshold. "Gina, show Emma what a bathtub is, I doubt she knows." Emma blushed, and Regina grabbed her hand and dragged her up the stairs, mumbling apologies under her breath low enough for Emma to hear and Cora to not.

"You can wear some of my clothes for now," Regina said, opening her closet. "I don't mind sharing." Emma gaped at the full closet. "It's not even half full," Regina disagreed, shrugging. "I have a dresser, and so will you, and you get half the closet." In the end, Emma was overwhelmed, so Regina picked a pretty blue dress and red cardigan for her. "You can pick any of my shoes, too. I don't know how long those Mary Janes are going to last."

After Emma had a bath and dressed in the dress and cardigan, Regina took one look at her hair and decided that it needed a trim and convinced Emma to sit at her vanity. "It hasn't been trimmed in a while," Emma told her apologetically as Regina concentrated on the one spot in the back that was rather shorter than the rest, reaching only to her shoulder blades whereas the rest of it was much longer. "What happened here?" Emma blushed again. "I… I had a foster mother who decided that I was rebellious, and she grabbed me by the hair and started cutting it off… and her kid Neal, who was the best guy I ever knew, stopped her. He sent me back to the train station the next day. That was a while ago though. I think three months. I stayed with them for about seven months, I think, and it was utter hell. The woman was a total jerk, a single mum. I think her name was Milah or something utterly weird. She adopted Neal, and how he turned out so well I have no idea. She just does that stuff so she gets money for it."

Regina stopped. "Emma, I'm so sorry." Emma shrugged. "I'm over it. You learn to move on after a while." Regina resumed cutting. "I think I can blend it in so that you can't see it," she said encouragingly. After a few minutes, she turned and began work on the front of the hair. By the time Emma's hair was dry, Regina had trimmed it nicely and tied half of it up with a red ribbon. Emma stared in the mirror, awestruck. Regina stared at Emma, her cheeks coloring a little. "God, Emma, you're so pretty," she muttered under her breath, angry with herself and hoping Emma didn't notice. "What?" Emma turned around and looked at Regina. Her face flushed scarlet. "Let's try out makeup on you!" she blurted out, rummaging through one of the drawers of the vanity. Emma looked at her thoughtfully, a slight smile coloring her face.


End file.
